


A Single Moment

by elisetales



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Cuddling, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 08:32:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/924150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisetales/pseuds/elisetales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Levi offers Armin some impromptu comfort after a battle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Single Moment

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this](http://24.media.tumblr.com/cf91c100425af9e6dd8aa3ff5bbc9eb9/tumblr_mqkspoUGFe1rwbhcbo1_400.png) picture. Artist can be found [here](http://www.pixiv.net/member.php?id=4368512).

By the time he reaches them, it's too late to save them all.

The earth is bloody when he lands on his feet, littered with the severed body parts of soldiers too young to die—most of them still just children, really. The last remaining survivor doesn't seem to notice Levi's presence as he approaches, occupied as he is with retching all over the ground in front of him.

"Hey," Levi says, crouching down and laying a hand on the kid's trembling shoulder. "Don't shit yourself, kid."

The kid turns to face him and Levi immediately recognizes him as Armin Arlert, the third and least obnoxious member of Eren's shitty little tagteam. Armin sniffles pathetically, sobs and wipes his face with his sleeve. Levi cringes but looks the other way.

"C-Corporal," Armin stammers. His breath hitches. "They're all dead, aren't they?" He dribbles all down his chin and Levi, unable to stand the sight of it, pulls the last clean handkerchief from his pocket and slaps it over the kid's face, roughly wipes him clean of blood and snot and tears before he can even manage to protest it.

"Yeah," Levi admits when he's done, tossing the ruined handkerchief aside and rising to his feet. "Don't look at them. Look at me." It's the kindest advice he can think to give.

Armin manages a weak nod at that, keeps his eyes fixed to Levi's face and takes his proffered hand, allowing Levi to pull him up to his feet.

"It ate them all. It was going to eat me, too," Armin utters faintly, and there's a glazed look in those big blue eyes now. Levi wonders if he's hit his head until Armin’s expression turns purposeful and he adds, "You saved my life, sir."

"Yeah. Well I—" Whatever Levi's going to say next is abruptly silenced when Armin throws himself into Levi's arms, fists his hands in the back of Levi's jacket and sags against his chest, taking big, gulping breaths.

It's been years since he's done this, Levi muses with some surprise—held someone small enough to fit so neatly in his arms, to tuck their head beneath his chin. He stiffly allows the embrace if only to remind himself how it feels. And also because the kid’s so traumatized he’s probably pissed himself already, could use a little pity if Levi’s able to give it.

It isn’t so terrible. The kid doesn't smell as bad as most of them must—Levi's sure _he_ must stink to high heaven, and yet Armin still manages to smell faintly of soap and flowers, even under all the titan reek.

Levi allows himself this brief moment just to be still, to gather his thoughts while they’re still alone; before the rest of them can come charging in. He puts his arms around the boy's narrow shoulders and draws him in, lets him cry against the fabric of his shirt until it's soaked through with blood and snot and tears. It’s vile and yet Levi reasons he’s filthy already; unsure how one poor boy’s bodily fluids are going to make matters much worse for him.

They stand there until the crying finally abates, until Armin relaxes against him and his breathing gradually returns to its regular and gentle rhythm. Levi brings a hand to the back of the boy’s head, lets his fingers sift through his soft hair and idly wonders how long it’ll be before he’s standing over _Armin’s_ body, holding the boy’s hand while Armin imparts to him his final, dying words.

The idea revolts him. He doesn’t want that, not for this one. He’s not like his friends—just a slip of a boy, Levi thinks; soft and weak and laughably ill-suited to life as a member of the Scouting Legion. And yet somehow he's found his place among them; he’s one of them now, and there's even been talk between the officers of taking him off the frontlines—he's proven himself a talented budding tactician, and his potential use to them is too precious to waste between the stinking jaws of a titan.

Levi decides then he'll support the motion, whatever the inconvenience to him. Because forcing a boy like this to swing swords, to watch his comrades die while he stands by helpless, seems too cruel, even to Levi.

Armin shifts against him, brings his hand to Levi’s front and twists delicate fingers in his jacket. He draws in a sharp breath, about to speak, when Levi hears muffled shouts in the distance and the thunderous sound of horses riding towards them. He pushes at Armin’s shoulders, signalling it’s enough, and the boy staggers back without question, wiping again at his pink and tear-streaked face with the sleeve of his jacket. He avoids Levi’s eyes and stares down at his boots instead, looking utterly defeated.

Levi watches then as Armin’s friends surround him, fuss at him, take turns pulling and grabbing at him and making sure he’s alright. He leaves them to it, confident Armin will be safe for the time-being, and retreats back up the hill to await the return of his own fellow squad members. 


End file.
